


Fabulosity

by JoannaG



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoannaG/pseuds/JoannaG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rogue is a supermodel that Charles Xavier wants to recruit for his latest PR campaign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fabulosity

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve shamelessly swiped the title of this story from Kimora Lee Simmon’s book and perfume of the same name. The photographer Russell Baer that’s mentioned in this story is a real person – who looks kinda like Hugh Jackman, so I thought it’d be amusing to include him.

Logan was the first to arrive for the requisite Monday morning meeting. Bypassing the sophisticated-looking coffee machine that was worthy of a Starbuck’s franchise, he dropped himself down into one of the chairs surrounding the polished mahogany table. No more than a few heartbeats later he checked his watch, already bored and wondering how long he’d have to wait before the rest of the team showed up. Trying to find something to pass the time, his eyes skimmed over the surface of the conference table in a vain effort to find a watermark the cleaning crew had inadvertently missed – but as usual, there wasn’t so much as a speck of dust in sight.

However, the tabletop wasn’t completely free of objects – down at the far end where Charles parked his wheelchair – there was a stack of magazines. Even though Logan guessed they probably weren’t editions of ‘Motorcycle Monthly’ or better yet, ‘Hustler’, his natural curiosity drew him towards the small pile.

They were fashion magazines with names like ‘Vogue’, ‘Glamour’ and ‘Cosmopolitan’. Now, either Jean or Storm had left these in the room or Charles’ taste in reading material had taken a rather strange turn. While checking out the photos, Logan made an interesting discovery – it was the same model on every cover. Laying them out side-by-side confirmed that each issue featured the same glossy brown hair with platinum colored face-framing streaks and eyes the color of melted chocolate. On the ‘Vogue’ cover she was wearing a caramel colored trench coat and black spike heeled ‘fuck me’ boots, which was just as erotic as the cleavage-baring pose of the ‘Cosmopolitan’ one. There was a tickle of familiarity about the girl but the blood rushing south, making his jeans uncomfortably tight, made coherent thought an impossibility.

It was at this precise moment that the others finally made an appearance. Logan dropped the magazine he was holding and hastily returned to his seat as the team filed into the room. The coffee-aholics, Hank and Jean, made a pit stop at the coffee machine, while Scott, Storm and Charles went ahead and took their places around the conference table.

“Good morning, everyone,” Charles began as Hank and Jean found their seats.

A chorus of ‘good mornings’ echoed throughout the room.

Charles held up a magazine in each hand. “Do you know what I’m holding?” he asked the group.

Logan tamped down the urge to throw out “jerking off material” as a response.

“Your ‘coming out of the closet’ announcement?” Scott joked.

‘Wow, that was almost as bad as what I was gonna say.’ Logan thought.

“My interest is in the model – not what she’s wearing,” Charles responded, then noticing the arched eyebrows of both Jean and Storm, he added, “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

“Fantasizing about that little hottie, and not the clothes sounds right to me,” Logan offered which garnered him a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head from Storm.

“Okay, maybe I need to start again. The young woman on all of these covers is America’s top supermodel and my interest in her is purely of a business nature.”

Everyone in the room threw Charles a puzzled look, so he explained further.

“I’ve engaged the services of a public relations firm to assist in the promotion of a positive mutant image.”

“What does that have to do with Miss Doable?” Scott asked, which earned him a dark glare from Jean.

“The PR firm has contacted Rogue’s agency about hiring her for our new campaign.”

“Rogue?” Hank inquired.

“I’m theorizing it’s not her real name.”

“No shit,” Logan blurted out.

Ignoring Logan’s four-letter response, Charles proceeded, “There’s just one small obstacle in commissioning her services as the ‘face’ of our cause.”

“We can’t afford her fee?” Storm offered.

“She hasn’t admitted she’s a mutant,” Charles replied.

Apparently momentarily forgetting about Cerebro, Hank asked, “You’ve positively ascertained that she’s a mutant?”

“She is,” Charles and Logan replied at the same time.

“Well, I used Cerebro to see if she had a mutant signature,” Charles said, “How do you know?”

“Because I know her,” he replied somewhat nonchalantly.

Scott’s eyes being obscured by his glasses, Logan was met with four pairs of wide-eyed expressions. “I thought she looked familiar,” he explained, “but as I don’t read that crap, I couldn’t figure out why. Then I remembered where I’ve seen her before …”

Jean made the ‘go on’ motion with her hand.

“It was a few years ago in Northern Alberta. She came into the bar where I was cage-fighting that night, then later she stowed away in the back of the trailer I was towing behind my truck. When I figured out she was back there I put her out on the side of the road.”

“Nice,” Jean interrupted.

“Back then I wasn’t the warm and fuzzy guy you all know and love.”

That merited a loud and obvious snort from Scott.

“Look, I didn’t leave her stranded. I got about a half a click down the road before I pulled over and let her into the truck. Which she dissed, by the way. And then she inhaled all my beef jerky.”

“Which proves she’s a mutant,” Scott said, “Whose gift is irritating Logan.”

“No, that’s your special gift, Cyclops,” Logan retaliated.

“Just get on with this riveting story,” he suggested.

“She warned me about her skin. Said people get hurt when they touch her.”

“Figures you’d want some sort of sexual favor for giving her a ride,” Scott commented, the disgust in his voice palpable.

“Wrong!” Logan snapped, and then defensively explained, “She was cold, so I turned on the heater and reached over to pull her hands towards it. That’s when she warned me about her skin.”

“So what happened?” Storm inquired.

“We pulled into the next motel and I got creative,” he answered. At the shocked expressions he rolled his eyes and added, “I’m just fuckin’ with you. I dropped her off at the next decent-sized town. I never saw her again … until today. She didn’t have the white streaks back then, that’s what threw me off.”

“You’re not part of our usual recruitment contingent, but if you think she’ll remember you …” Storm started to say.

“I tend to leave an impression,” Logan interrupted as he wiggled his eyebrows in Jean’s general direction.

“You certainly do,” Scott interjected sourly.

“I think Storm and Robert Drake should accompany me on this one,” Charles stated.

“Bobby?” Jean asked.

“Yes,” Charles replied, “I’m hoping that bringing along someone who’s close to her own age will make her feel more comfortable.”

“Charles Xavier – Pimp Daddy,” Logan chuckled.

“We’re recruiting her for an ad campaign, not a porno,” Scott reminded Logan.

“Having her star in a mutant porno would do far more for improving mutant-human relations than any G-rated crap you’d wanna go with,” Logan said with a smirk.

“Why is he even invited to these meetings?” Scott asked pointlessly.

 

~*~*~*

 

A few days later Charles, Storm and Bobby found themselves at the studio of photographer Russell Baer watching him shoot Rogue for the cover of ‘Allure’ magazine.

Storm watched in amusement as Bobby stared at the beautiful young woman moving seductively to the beat of the music emanating from the studio’s sound system. She wondered if, when they finally spoke to Rogue, Bobby would be too tongue-tied to effectively contribute to the conversation.

The session wrapped an hour later and the X-Men ambassadors were introduced to Rogue who then politely excused herself to go change her clothes. A brief time later she emerged from the dressing room now wearing jeans and a pale pink cashmere sweater, her face scrubbed free of any make-up.

“My one vice,” Rogue said indicating the Starbuck’s cup in her hand.

“Isn’t that cold by now?” Bobby asked with a grimace.

Taking a sip and then nodding, she answered, “Yup. But even cold, it’s still heavenly.”

“My vice is chocolate,” Storm contributed.

“Well, that goes without saying,” Rogue replied with a grin.

The two women exchanged knowing smiles – having instantly bonded in a way that was completely foreign to men.

In an effort to steer the conversation back on course so they could get to the point of this meeting, Charles said, “I’m sure your agency has already informed you that we’d like to hire you for our new campaign.”

“Yes, they did. But I’m afraid I can’t take the assignment because I’m not a mutant.”

“Well, you’re not a princess, but you wore a tiara for the ‘Elle’ photo spread,” Storm reminded her.

“And you *are* a mutant … even if you haven’t admitted it yet,” Charles stated emphatically.

“I don’t know where you got your information, but you’re wrong,” she said, her voice only slightly betraying her nervousness.

“I traced your mutant signature with a machine called Cerebro, which was designed specifically for that purpose.”

“Then your stupid machine needs a tune-up.”

“I assure you, it’s infallible,” Charles replied softly but firmly.

“Maybe its warranty ran out and you didn’t notice.” She said it in a joking manner, but her face betrayed her defeat. Charles Xavier was infamous in mutant circles and she’d heard that he was able to detect mutants – even those that didn’t want to be discovered.

“Rogue,” he said gently.

“If I ‘come out’ and it blows my modeling career, can I become one of your mysterious X-Men?” she asked in joking resignation.

“The pay sucks,” Bobby blurted out.

Storm shot him a look.

“Well, it does,” he mumbled in retort.

“We’ll take care of you,” Charles promised as he handed her a small rectangular card, “Give yourself a few days to think about this.”

“Superheroes have business cards?” she asked in amusement.

“No, but school’s for gifted children do,” Charles replied with a smile.

“Just for the record …those school teacher alter-egos are even worse disguises than Superman’s Clark Kent.”

“At least we don’t have to wear spandex,” Bobby noted.

Rogue giggled and Bobby decided he might have to rethink his plan to pursue Kitty Pryde.

 

~*~*~*

 

**One week later ~**

 

“Damn, that mission sucked. I’d rather have done yesterday’s one again,” Logan declared as the battle-weary Alpha Team exited the Blackbird. His uniform, unlike his body, didn’t conveniently repair itself – so the rips and burn holes meant it was destined for the trash bin.

Bobby and Piotr’s uniforms had fared slightly better, and were probably salvageable.

Hank’s uniform had suffered the least amount of damage and probably just needed wiping over with a damp cloth.

Even Scott, who usually managed to stay magazine-cover ready, looked ragged and in need of a shower.

“Debriefing in ten minutes, everyone,” he reminded his team.

There was a collective groan.

“I swear you were a government official in a previous life, Scott. It would certainly explain your obsession with protocol,” Bobby observed.

“You guys whine after every mission,” their leader replied, “The procedure isn’t going to change, so why do you bother?”

“Why do you?” Logan asked with a snort – amused at his own wit.

“Anytime you wanna quit the team and hit the road again … feel free,” Scott snapped. He wasn’t in the mood to play the same old bullshit game with Logan.

“Damn, Cyke, can’t you come up with anything new?”

“Can’t you?” Bobby mumbled softly. He admired Scott and didn’t like witnessing Logan’s continuous disrespect.

He turned toward Bobby and tapped his ear to indicate that his enhanced hearing had picked up the comment. Bobby’s eyes dropped to the hangar floor. If Logan insisted on being pissy today, it was better that Scott was his target instead of him.

“Let me repeat myself,” Scott said between clenched teeth, “If you don’t wish to be part of this team – the team that *I* lead – you can always request a transfer to the Siberian Unit.”

“We don’t have a Siberian Unit,” Logan answered smugly.

“Exactly.” And with that Scott strode out of the room – effectively ending any further altercation.

The rest of the team silently breathed a sigh of relief. At least this time the two men were parting without spilling each other’s blood. They shuffled off towards the men’s locker room to shower and change into their street clothes – allowing Scott time to go upstairs to Charles’ office and register yet another complaint about Logan before the official debriefing began.

It would only be a matter of time before Logan’s luck ran out and Scott wouldn’t let himself be gently coerced into keeping him around. The X-Men all knew that if it wasn’t for Charles’ intervention, Logan would’ve had Scott’s footprint on his butt a long time ago.

Scott bypassed the locker room and headed straight for the elevator. He was exasperated with Logan’s insubordination. The man may have coveted Scott’s place in Jean’s life, but he showed no blatant designs on usurping his position on the team. Which meant that, on the job, Logan challenged Scott at every opportunity merely for the sport of it. With more force than was necessary, he punched the button for the main floor.

Arriving at the Professor’s office suite he found Mildred’s desk deserted and the door to the inner office standing open.

“Mildred? Professor?” He called out.

“In here, sweetie,” Mildred answered.

Scott proceeded into the Professor’s office to find the motherly secretary, Charles and the young woman he’d referred to – at the meeting a week and a half earlier – as Miss Doable.

“Scott, this is Rogue.”

“Wow, your photos certainly don’t need any airbrushing,” Scott said admiringly as he extended his hand in greeting.

“Thank you, sugar,” Rogue replied as she shook his hand, then with a smile and a playful wink added, “You wouldn’t need any yourself.”

Scott’s cheeks flamed a shade of red that was nearly as deep in tone as the ruby quartz of his glasses.

Any further flirting between the two was cut short by Logan’s boisterous arrival.

“Hey, Poindexter, have you finished whining to Chuck about my crappy attitude? ‘Cause I’d like to take a shower and wash that guy’s brain matter outta my hair …” Logan began and then stopped in his tracks when he noticed their guest.

“Logan?” Rogue exclaimed in shock.

 

~*~*~*

 

Wondering when they were going to get the debriefing started so he could go down to the garage and tinker with the old junker he was restoring, Bobby walked into the Professor’s office to look for Scott. He found his team leader as well as their antagonistic teammate, which wasn’t unexpected as the men often duked it out verbally in Charles’ office. What did catch him off-guard, however, was seeing Logan lip-locked with the young woman Bobby had hoped to get to know a lot better. Now he had a clearer understanding of what Scott must’ve experienced the time he caught Logan with his tongue down Jean’s throat.

“I’m guessing they know each other,” he remarked sourly to the room’s other occupants.

Logan and Rogue broke apart at the sound of the new voice.

“Oh, hi …” Rogue hesitated, apparently having forgotten his name.

“Bobby,” he supplied sharply, upset with himself because, obviously he hadn’t made as much of an impression as he’d thought – and mad at her that she hadn’t been charmed by his efforts.

Whenever Logan (or Scott) entered a room, women tended to act as if Bobby had enabled his gift and become a block of clear ice. So, although, it wasn’t necessarily perplexing that Rogue was dismissive, it still hurt nonetheless.

Logan caught Bobby’s disappointment and sympathetically threw him a ‘sorry, bub’ grimace. The younger man acknowledged his attempt at contrition with a shrug of his shoulders. Only Scott dared to challenge Logan over a woman – and that was because of his confidence in knowing he was the indisputable first choice where Jean was concerned. The good doctor may have toyed with Logan, but her heart belonged to Scott.

Currently Logan’s outrageous flirting had more to do with needling Scott than any real desire for Jean. All three of them understood the ‘rules’ and played the game accordingly. Now it seemed as if Logan had a new distraction and Bobby wondered how Jean would react to another player on ‘the field’. As she was used to being the center of attention, this latest development could prove to be highly entertaining.

A new round of the game was about to begin as a moment later Jean walked into the office.

While Charles was fairly adept at shielding himself from the ‘chatter’ of the projections of the mansion’s residents, Jean had not yet quite mastered that particular skill. This caused her to have both severe migraines and unwanted information. From the head snap in Logan’s direction and the look on her face, Bobby surmised that his feral teammate had been having naughty thoughts – as usual - but this time about someone other than the beautiful doctor. Her head turned to Rogue and her eyes narrowed. Which meant that Logan had definitely been projecting. Yes, this was certainly going to be interesting – and he was going to have a front-row seat to the spectacle.

“Jean, this is …” Scott started to say, and then hesitated before finishing with, “Rogue.”

‘Almost slipped and called her Miss Doable, didn’t you, darling?’ Jean projected into Scott’s mind.

His sheepish look was all the answer she needed. She shot him a glare. It was bad enough that Logan was distracted from her, but she was damned if her own fiancé was going to be as well.

Trying to remember that it wasn’t Rogue’s fault the men were acting like boys with their first hard-ons, she extended her hand and introduced herself.

“Jean Grey. Resident doctor ... and Scott’s fiancée,” she added pointedly.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Grey. You spoke in front of the Senate, right?” Rogue replied, “I caught it on C-Span.”

Quite evidently taken by surprise, “Oh.” was all Jean could muster as a reply.

“I’m not a brainless twit like some models. I actually graduated from Columbia with degrees in poli-sci, literature and art,” Rogue continued, then with a smile added, “Ya know, so I’d have career options when I got older and beyond the help of plastic surgery.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that for a long time,” Scott said admiringly, which garnered him a glare from both Jean and Logan.

“Aw, thank you, sugar,” Rogue replied.

‘Knock it off, Scott, or you’re going to be sleeping on the couch in your office,’ Jean warned telepathically.

Scott conspicuously checked his watch and announced, “Wow, would you look at that – we’re late for our debriefing. Logan and Bobby, let’s go.”

“Damn, just when I thought you’d forgotten about that,” Bobby complained.

“No such luck,” Logan noted sourly.

“NOW!” Scott bellowed as he marched out of the room.

“You gonna put your stuff in my room?” Logan asked Rogue.

“That’s a bit presumptuous considering we haven’t seen each other in years,” she replied.

“Do you always greet men by sticking your tongue down their throat?” he snapped.

“Excuse me,” she responded, “but you Frenched me.”

“Look, you two can fight and then have make-up sex later, we need to go before Scott pops a blood vessel,” Bobby implored.

With a resigned sigh, Logan followed him out of the office.

 

~*~*~*

 

**An hour later –**

The door of the guest room assigned to Rogue was ajar, so figuring she wasn’t indecent; Logan pushed it open and walked in without bothering to knock.

She was still in the process of unpacking.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“Hi,” she replied. He couldn’t tell from her body language or expression what kind of mood she was in. He sniffed the air surreptitiously, but even her scent offered no hint.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

“Look, I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier,” he said genuinely, “And you’re sorry about?”

“Global warming,” she replied seriously, then smiled before adding, “Just kidding. I’m sorry I was a bitch.”

“You weren’t being a bitch. You were right, I was …” he hesitated, “expecting you to fall into bed with me and …”

“Make up for lost time?”

“What?”

“Everyday for the past four years I’ve thought about you. Wondering what might’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten out of your truck and walked away. I’d just about given up hope, figuring the chances of our crossing paths again was somewhere between slim and none.”

“And everyday for the past four years I’ve regretted letting you walk away,” Logan confessed, “I got halfway to the next town before turning around, but I guess you’d already caught another ride by then, ‘cause I couldn’t find you.”

“I’d like to start over. Give us another chance.” She paused, took a deep breath then said, “I’m Rogue.”

“So what kind of name is Rogue?” he asked, just as he’d done all those years ago.

Running a finger over the inscription on his dog tag, she repeated her response from that day, “I don’t know. What kind of name is Wolverine?”

“Name’s Logan.”

With a catch in her throat and tears welling up in her eyes, she replied, “Marie.”


End file.
